Who is this guy and why does this guy like beer so much?
As you can see from the picture, I started training to become a beer connoisseur long before I was of legal age to do so. The statute of limitations has passed on busting my dad, so please credit him for this glorious obsession. One might find it interesting that the nickname for beer in my formative years was “booby,” which is quite Fruedian if nothing else.
Beer snobbery developed more roundly through high school and college. I broke into microbrews through the easily accessible gateway drinks distributed by Allagash, Geary’s, Samuel Adams, and Saranac. A young man can’t help feeling an air of superiority knowing that the beers he’s drinking have a more complex flavor profile than those favored by his peers (who were drinking cheaper stuff only to get drunk night after night). I can’t lie, though; I drank maybe a bit more than my share of Milwaukee’s Best over those four years as well.
Fast-forward to 2009 and the Pacific coastline of Central America. A one-day sprint to the Panamanian border from the capital of Costa Rica turned into three days of treachery by way of two motorcycle crashes and some unlucky weather. Arriving at Playa Lajas in Panama, sweat-stained, bloodied, and bruised, I exchanged a dollar for a Panama Beer and had the most exquisite beer epiphany:
There’s a beer for all seasons, all situations, and all palates.
Panama Beer, as well as pretty much every other beer even remotely easy to acquire in Central America, is a macrobrew. Some people, maybe too ingrained in the same American craft beer culture, might derogatorily call this “fizzy, yellow beer.” No brew might better complement a deep breath of salty sea air and hot day lazing about on the sand, but even if I’d wanted something else, I didn’t have a say in the matter. The lack of variety was a starker contrast than that of the American beer market, and as I traveled from bar to Panama Beer poster plastered bar, the incumbent marketing budget of big beer kept slapping me in the face.
Ralph Waldo Emerson coined the phrase “Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door.” Someone recently clarified that statement, tagging “If they know about it” onto the end. I’ve had too many most-interesting-beer-I’ve-ever-tasted moments at beer festivals and thought, “how come I’ve never heard of this beer before?’ The gap between the known and the unknown will expand as long as the popularity of craft beer grows and brewers continue to be artists first, scientists second, and marketers a distant third (realistically, more like fourth or fifth).
The difficulty of getting the name out there increases as brewers wade through the mire of just-average websites popping up daily, each one clamoring for the eyeballs of the next beer drinker. Should I send YetAnotherBeerBlogger.com a sample of my beer? How many people read that site? Where do the readers live? Would it be worth it? I started this site to eliminate any doubt in a brewer’s mind that their beer would reach its intended audience with professionally-produced content for a reasonable price.
As someone who constantly seeks out new ways to stimulate my senses, I’ve come to one conclusion: beer is the least expensive way for a person to have a new, multi-sensory experience every day. I want to share this truth with the world. Brewers can share the anticipation of that experience with as many people as possible by profiling their beer here for a day. Readers can rely on this site to bring them the facts about each beer presented with excellence and no personal bias.